


The Star of Inspiration

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Childhood Memories, Gen, Second Age, The House of Fëanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 06:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12358989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: As Celebrimbor completes Ost-in-Edhil, he recalls where he found his earliest inspiration.





	The Star of Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kim_onka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim_onka/gifts).



When Celebrimbor thinks back to his earliest childhood memories, he eventually realises that he was one of the last children born in the Blessed Realm to grow up without the subtle insidious threat of Melkor hanging over them. (Itarillë, born just twenty years later, was a very small child when Melkor was released, and does not remember what it was like before -- to her Melkor was always a reality to be dealt with rather than a locked-away, defeated, ancient evil.) 

His early childhood days were unclouded and happy. He can recall his grandfather's face without the weight of fear that settled on it later, and his father's laughter, without care or worry. In those days both Curufinwës were always smiling, always creating new things together for the simple joy of artistry. 

He had young uncles in the form of red-haired twins who were not quite grown-up yet, and a father who was himself not quite grown up, who brought his wife to his parents' house rather than establishing a home of his own. Dinners in Celebrimbor's childhood were merry affairs, with half a dozen cooks testing the limits of the kitchen in an effort to outdo each other. Fëanáro cooked often, and he was as fine over a stove as he was in a forge or a laboratory. 

Celebrimbor's grandmother, Nerdanel, was at the height of her fame and talent in those days, and he remembers going with her to unveil statues, enjoying being made the centre of attention for a little while before he pulled the cloth covering her newest creation away. She had a merry tongue and kept her crowds laughing before dazzling them with her art. 

All of his relatives were fond of travel and adventure, as much as it could be had in the safe confines of Valinor, and Celebrimbor spent many of his early days learning about the world by seeing it up close. He learned botany from playing in the dirt in the gardens of Yavanna with his uncle Telufinwë, the art of the hunt from creeping tree to tree with his uncles Pityafinwë and Tyelcormo in Oromë's woods, languages from listening to Fëanáro and Macalaurë debate them at great length many times over, budgeting and housekeeping from his uncle Carnistir, who uniquely in the house of Fëanáro liked dealing with matters of money, politics and fashion in equal measure from uncle Maitimo, and the art of the forge from his father and grandfather. 

There was never a dull moment in Fëanáro's house, punctuated as it was by this week's new innovation at Fëanáro's hands, that new rhyme from Macalaurë that set everyone's heads buzzing for a full month before it was unleashed on the general public, Nerdanel's latest and greatest work of art, Maitimo's newest extravagance, or Tyelcormo's newest pet. 

Celebrimbor smiles at the memories. "In this time of new beginnings," he says to the assembled crowds, his hammer in hand, ready to tap into place the last nail that will complete Ost-in-Edhil, "it is meet that we recall where we found our earliest inspiration. For me, it came from my family. The house of Fëanor in my youth was full of joy in the creation of beauty and knowledge. It is with that joy -- and hope in the expectation of the creation of more beauty and more knowledge -- that I declare the founding of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain! Bring your art, of whatever kind it may be. Bring your knowledge and your studies here to this city, and you will find welcome, whoever you may be." 

He held up the large ceremonial nail, showing everyone what was carved into it -- the star of the House of Fëanor. There were some cheers from those of the Noldor who had followed him, but many of the crowd were silent or murmured amongst themselves, unsure. 

"This star," Celebrimbor continued, "is not just the symbol of the deeds of the Age that is gone. I reclaim it now for myself in the spirit for which it was made, and so too do I reclaim my right name and my parentage, renounced long ago before Nargothrond fell. I am Tyelperinquar Curufinwë, son of Atarinkë Curufinwë, last scion of the House of Fëanor, and this, this is my star!"

He turned to the wall, where the hole for the nail was ready and waiting, and pressed it in, then with one mighty hammer-blow struck it home. He raised his hands above his head in a gesture of triumph, then opened his hands, turning the gesture into one of welcome. 

"Welcome to the city of the craftspeople, city of the artisans, city of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain! May it stand for years uncounted, and may all who enter her gates be inspired to greatness!" His voice was full of energy and passion, and as the gates swung open for the first time, the people cried out with great joy and gladness.


End file.
